Just a Game
by Casteline
Summary: The world was a game. An endless game of inconsistent rules and ever-changing adversaries.


I don't own... duh

Written for a contest. I ended up with the character Luna and Bella. This is what come out...

* * *

_Just a Game_

She had never seen war as romantic. Others had, but she never understood that. There was nothing romantic about death.

No.

War was just a game.

Bellatrix Lestrange had never been considered i_normal/i._ She had not been normal as a Black, nor as a Lestrange. Not once could she remember being considered typical.

She did not remember much of her childhood. She only remembered little things. The little things that severed her no purpose. She could not remember important things.

Among the memories she did retain, were ones of her sisters. She could remember sitting on the floor, a flimsy piece of cardboard between them. There had been little plastic pieces, most of which had little bite-marks, having been gnawed at consistently by little Cissy. She was just a toddler.

Cissy, of course, hadn't quite understood the games they played, she was far too young. But Bella and Andromeda had hours of fun.

Bella had always loved board games. She loved learning the rules, then playing the game, then inventing little twists and turns to spice it up.

Thinking back, she realized, maybe that's where it had come from.

For as long as she could remember, she viewed the world as a game. An endless game of inconsistent rules and ever-changing adversaries.

And right now this game was just heating up.

All around her people were fighting. Spells were flying. People kept swapping opponents, just as any good gamer should.

She herself had switched a dozen times. She'd fought a Weasley. She wasn't sure which, it hadn't been important enough to stick. She'd battled a few teachers and Aurors, finally gaining victory over the death of that cocky niece of hers.

Now she was fighting this little blonde girl.

At first glance, she'd thought it would be an easy kill. This little girl, no more than and fifth or sixth year, couldn't have the training necessary to defend herself from Bellatrix Lestrange.

The girl had looked familiar. As though they'd met once before, but the encounter was not important enough to stick.

This wasn't surprising. Bella never had great memory. Some memories stuck out, brighter then the rest. Others merely faded into the background, as though the memories were not her own.

Nevertheless…

This girl was nothing special.

Or so she'd thought.

It wasn't as though the girl could have won. Never. No one beat the Dark Princess Bella.

But she had put up a good fight.

She used spells Bellatrix had never heard of, never imagined.

But not once did she use an unforgivable. Everyone around her was. Good guys and bad. Aurors and students.

But not her.

Not once.

And yet, she'd come closer than anyone.

Closer to bringing her down than anyone had done before.

Bellatrix had no doubt that this girl may very well have killed her.

But no one killed Bellatrix. No one. She would not be brought down so easily. She would not be brought down.

Not until i_she/i_ was ready. i_She/i_ called the shots in this game.

This i_was/i_ a game.

And Bellatrix never lost.

But, as she had always believed, the world was an ever changing game, and it was about to change again.

Bellatrix was certain she would have been the downfall of this child.

But life chose now to take one of those unexpected turns.

One of the Weasleys, the girl, had been battling a Death Eater nearby. In a bizarre twist of fate, the red head switched opponents with the blonde.

Bellatrix felt no respect towards this girl as she had the other. She used simple, boring spells. She had no flare. She would take great pleasure watching her suffer.

But in the violent rush of adrenaline and ecstasy, dear Bella forgot one thing.

You never mess with a Weasley.

Hurt one, and there are a dozen others right behind, waiting for revenge.

But all it took was one.

Molly Weasley. That was her name, if memory served. She couldn't be sure, of course, but she was fairly certain.

There was something sickly sweet about the connection between mother and daughter. The protectiveness the former had for the latter.

Battling the plump woman, Bellatrix couldn't help but have her attention drawn to the blonde, who had just incapacitated three Death Eaters.

The girl intrigued her.

She was a child, nothing more.

But…

But the way she looked at the scene around her…

The way she watched, as Molly Weasley stole the life from the Dark Princess…

The way her eyes, her cool, distant eyes watched as the torn, tattered soul was ripped from Bella's body…

Not once did she look away. Not once did she show fear, or hatred, or any hint of emotion.

It was in that moment that Bellatrix remembered.

Or, maybe not so much remembered as realized.

She had not met this girl (had she?)

This girl was just a representation.

A representation of the innocence she had once possessed.

It was hard to believe sometimes…

That she had ever been innocent.

But everyone, at some point in their lives, had been a child. Children are the embodiment of innocence.

And that is what this girl had been.

Innocence.

Innocence that would no doubt turn to something more. Something bad. Something evil.

This innocence would evolve.

It would consume her.

But none of that mattered now.

The world was just a game.

And Bellatrix had lost.

-

Luna Lovegood watched as a light faded from the crazed woman's eyes.

She watched in anticipation.

This could not be it.

It couldn't.

This woman, this animal, didn't just die.

Not that easily.

There had to be something more.

A dramatic comeback.

Was it wrong…

Was it wrong that part of Luna had liked her?

Well, maybe not her, per se.

But the idea of her.

The idea of someone consumed by her insanity.

She had been an i_interesting/i_ woman.

Not interesting because Luna understood her.

Interesting because she hadn't.

It definitely would have wrong to say that part of her wished she was still alive.

That would be blasphemous.

And it would be a lie.

Luna knew this woman did not deserve to live. She did not deserve a second chance.

But she would have liked to gain understanding.

What made this woman the way she was?

But there was no time for questions.

There was no time to ponder what had happened.

There was a war going on around her.

Luna had once heard someone say that war was romantic.

She didn't believe this.

Not for a second.

The only thing romantic about war was her love for it.

* * *

This didn't turn out quite the way I intended. I don't really like the second part, where its from Luna's side, but I loved the last line. I always intended to hint that maybe Luna was a little bit evil...

Tell me what you thought.

Ella


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